Chasing Pavement
by chaviv86
Summary: Set right after "Last Dance". Jules has a deeply unsettling experience, but is loathe to turn to Sam for support.
1. Chapter 1

_Chasing Pavement_

An ear-splitting yawn threatened to knock Jules right over as she wearily turned off the engine of her truck and sagged into her seat. It had been a really long shift. She had been tired all day – sleep hadn't been coming easily lately – but then right when they were supposed to clock out, and her thoughts of her bed were so tantalizing as to be bordering obscenity, her team had been asked to stand in for Team 5. Just for a couple of hours.

Jules snorted half-heartedly as she let her head loll to the side and gazed unseeingly out of the car window. What a night it had turned out to be… a crime-spree couple had seemed exciting enough, but then – then she had gone to profile the perp, and the assignment turned heartbreaking…

Her stomach turned as images of the night began flashing before her eyes, vying for her attention, demanding to be acknowledged.

With an irritable shake of her head, Jules opened her door, slid out of the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut with her last ounce of energy. "Good night to you too," she muttered, and trudged up the walk towards her front door.

Even in her semi-comatose state of exhaustion, Jules paused for a moment to run a critical eye over her handiwork. _It looks good_, she thought with satisfaction as she appraised the recent paint job. _I'm pretty good with the handy stuff after all. _Then she reached out for the doorknob, twisted it, and it fell off in her hand.

_Oh. Maybe not that good._

Jules blinked down at the metal orb in her palm as her sleep-deprived brain tried to process what had just happened.

_I never noticed it was loose. Must've – must've just been jolted too many times lately… _She reached out, stuck two fingers in the neat hole where the doorknob had been until a few moments prior, and pulled the door towards her, realizing only as she did that she hadn't yet unlocked it. To her surprise, the door obediently swung open. The hallway behind it was blazing beneath a light that she hadn't left on.

Jules was suddenly very, very, awake.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she froze in place and gently eased her Glock out of its holster on her hip. Very slowly, she inched her way into her hallway, scanning for anything or anyone that did not belong. Her visual sweep tagged the hallway as being "clear", and she turned towards the stairs, which she carefully climbed one at a time.

Reaching the landing, she took a deep breath, exhaled, then kicked her door open and burst in to the room, gun held straight out in front of her.

"Police! Freeze!" she yelled into the stillness.

The yellow curtains she had hung last week fluttered gently on the windowsill. There was no other response.

Jules surveyed her living room. A grey blanket lay discarded at the foot of her reupholstered couches, next to a pair of abandoned high heels. Her TV set sat quietly in the corner, playing host to two empty soda cans and a half-drained beer bottle. A purple clutch lay open on the coffee table, change spilling out onto the glass table top and slightly obscuring her view of the paperback that lay on the floor beneath it.

Jules lowered her gun. Everything was as she'd left it.

_But the door – I did lock the door. And the light was off in the hallway – I know it was. So what the heck is going on here?_

Jules holstered her gun as she reached down to pick up the blanket and toss it over the back of the loveseat. She crossed over to the window and shut it firmly, then snatched the empty soda cans from the TV set to toss them out.

She didn't bother turning on the light as she entered the cool stillness of the kitchen. She'd put in the tiles and cabinets herself, and by now she knew every inch of the room by heart. Every spice's scent, every machine's hum, every –

The prickle on the back of her neck was so sudden that she dropped the cans on the floor and yanked her gun out of its holster, spinning in place.

There was no one there. Heart thudding, she bent to retrieve the cans from the floor and tossed them into the garbage, still grasping her gun. Then she swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and left the kitchen for the comfort of her bedroom.

It was in her bedroom that she shot him.

At him, more precisely. The male figure hulking next to her armoire had shocked her so completely – or maybe because it was so dark – or that she was so tired – or that he had rushed her so fast – whatever be the reason, her bullet had missed her intended mark and become embedded somewhere in the Santorini Sky of her bedroom wall.

It was all over rather quickly, as melees go. She supposed he hadn't been expecting the gun to be in her hand – he'd charged at her without a weapon, and when she'd fired at him, he _scampered._

Years of SRU training be damned – she hadn't been able to move from her spot until the slam of the front door jolted her from her frozen state.

She pelted down the stairs after him, knowing he was gone, knowing she was too late, but scanning the street and garden nevertheless. They were empty, which wasn't surprising, and she was shaking, which was.

Jules could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage as she walked back inside and closed the door behind her. She turned to lock it, and stared blankly at the missing doorknob for two minutes solid before realizing that it could not properly lock.

Moving on autopilot, Jules grabbed the bench next to the stairwell, pushed it up against the door, jogged up the stairs, and once inside her living room once again, locked the door to the landing. Then, for good measure, she shoved her couch up against that door, and picked the grey blanket up off the floor once again.

The debilitating exhaustion from earlier combined with the post-adrenaline rush washed over Jules in waves. She collapsed onto the couch, completely spent.

And that was where she spent the night - curled in a fetal position, eyes wide open and staring, with her gun cradled in her lap.

She wasn't exactly sure when she fell asleep, but it was some time after the morning traffic had begun to hum.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: New author. Reviews are apple pies.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Jules?"

"Mmmm…" Jules lifted her head groggily, surveying the amused officer in front of her.

"Looks like you need a little one-on-one time with your bed," Ed teased. "Shift's over. Glad to see you've finished your paperwork."

"Oh, damn," Jules mumbled, looking down at the creased files resting under her arms. "No, I didn't – they're not done…"

Ed smiled. "Yeah, no surprise there. Go home, Jules. You can do them tomorrow."

"Mmm… yeah, I just gotta – just gonna finish up here…" she trailed off, trying in vain to clear the cobwebs from her head.

"Good luck with that," Ed said sincerely as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "'Night."

"Mm hmm."

Jules kept her head bent over the papers as the SRU office slowly emptied out behind her. She had no intention of leaving just yet. Maybe not for a long while. Maybe not at all. Home was not an inviting idea right now. Home was not comforting. Home was not safe.

She had battled all day as to whom to confide in about the break-in, but had drawn a blank. Sarge was the obvious answer, but then he'd be so worried, and want her to have a security detail or something over the top… so would Ed, and then – well, all of them, really, they'd probably over-react…

Jules sighed and dropped her head back into her arms.

_This would have been so simple a few weeks ago, _she thought sluggishly. _Just tell Sam. I'd stay at his place. Or he'd stay at mine. I wouldn't be afraid of anyone with Sam sleeping next to me. I'd be warm and comfortable and safe… mmm…_

"Jules?"

Another amused voice, tinged with the slightest bit of concern, interrupted her slumber. She didn't look up this time.

"Go'way, Sam," she mumbled, the warmth of her fantasy instantly replaced by the cold reality of her now defunct relationship with her blonde coworker.

_No, I won't beg Sam to be my hero and savior. Wouldn't want to get him in trouble with the new girlfriend, anyway… _

"You all right?" he asked uncertainly, not moving.

_No, I'm not all right. But you'd better stop asking before I start talking._

"Mm hmm."

"Do you want a ride? You don't look –"

"Hey," Jules said sharply, snapping her head up to meet his concerned expression with a defiant one. "I'm fine. Can you listen to me for once, please, and leave me alone?"

Sam bit his lip for a moment, then gave a half-shrug and turned away. Jules was half asleep again when his footsteps stopped.

"Good night, Jules," he called gingerly. Jules didn't reply.

The footsteps resumed and faded away.


	3. Chapter 3

_She wasn't raised with any particular brand of religion, but Jules truly believed that everything in the world had some sort of enlivening spirit - an energy, maybe - that caused it to be. Lying contentedly amongst her blankets, listening to the calm pulse of her home around her – yes, it wasn't a stretch at all to imagine that this house lived and breathed as she did. _

_Jules lifted her chin a fraction to survey her sleeping partner with tenderness. She considered tousling his hair to awaken him, but lazily abandoned the idea in favor of snuggling closer into his warm side, listening to the rhythm of his breathing. His and her house's. And her own, too. The cozy cocoon that she had built for herself inhaled and exhaled as one being._

_Mmm… but why was Sam breathing so quickly all of a sudden? She cocked her head curiously, then realized with a start that the gasping she now heard wasn't Sam's, it was her home's. Why was her house afraid? She lifted her head with a start, suddenly realizing that Sam's breathing was absent completely – he was no longer lying next to her. Her heartbeat picked up pace and her breaths came shorter and faster – she was now gasping for breath along with her home. _

_And then she saw Sam, standing in the corner by the armoire, but he turned around and it wasn't him, it was the intruder... He started towards Jules with an evil look on his face, and the house around her began to scream moments before she did._

"Gah!" Jules gasped, jerking upright.

The papers that had lain beneath her arms as she slept now scattered onto the floor as she tried to ascertain her surroundings. The cool lights of the SRU headquarters were familiar enough as to reassure her pounding heart, and she took a quavering breath, trying desperately to shake off the shrouds of the dream that still clung to her.

In an attempt at bravado, Jules closed her eyes and said aloud, "He won't come back, Jules. Get a grip."

Feeling marginally better for having made that announcement, Jules opened her eyes again and found, to her acute embarrassment, that she was not alone.

"Something you want to talk about, Jules?"

_Oh, shoot me now._

"Ahh… I thought everybody had left," Jules said guiltily. "What time is it?"

"Do you really think I'd let you get locked in to HQ?" Greg asked, pulling out a chair and seating himself across the table from Jules. "And it's one thirty AM."

_So, not morning yet. Damn._

A few moments passed in silent ruminations before Jules realized that her superior was waiting expectantly.

"Oh, sorry – did you say something?"

The trained negotiator tilted his head slightly and said gently, "You look upset, Jules. Anything you want to talk about?"

_Yeah, sure – I'm scared to go home, I'm having nightmares, and I don't need a dream oracle to tell me that I miss Sam. So what do you say, Sarge?_

"Oh – uh…" Jules attempted a carefree grin. "Nope."

Sgt. Parker sighed and began toying with the pen on the table in front of him. "Jules, I understand… you're in a tough situation right now." He shook his head. "It happens to all of us at some point or other, but that doesn't make it any easier. Relationships… sometimes they work, sometimes they fail. Anyone can relate to how difficult it gets when they don't work out." He looked up at her sympathetically.

_Relationships… what?_

Greg leaned forward intently. "Jules, Sam may not be coming back in to your life the way you'd like, but someone else will."

Jules stared blankly at him for a moment more before it clicked in her head.

"He's not coming back," she repeated, realizing the source of the sergeant's misunderstanding.

Greg looked at her with a tinge of concern. "That's right, Jules. He won't be coming back, but someone else will."

Jules looked down at the table for a moment, then looked back up to the sergeant and said with her best attempt at sincerity, "Thanks, boss. I appreciate your support."

"Anytime, Jules. You know I'm always here."

"Yeah." Despite her intentions, the word came out as a whisper.

"Now how about you going home and getting some sleep?"

"Sure thing, boss."

The two of them rose from the table, and Greg waited while Jules gathered her duffel and jacket from the other room. Then they walked out together to the parking garage. Greg watched until Jules got into her car and started the engine, then waved goodbye and entered his own vehicle. Jules waved vigorously back, waited until the lights of his car were no longer visible in her rear-view mirror, and then wearily closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest.

_I don't know where I'm going, but I'm sure not going home._

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: New author. Reviews are apple pies.**


	4. Chapter 4

_I've made up my mind,  
Don't need to think it over  
If I'm wrong, I am right  
Don't need to look no further,  
This ain't lust  
I know this is love…_

The melody's mild tempo was the perfect salve for Jules's worn out state of mind. She mindlessly hummed along to the familiar tune that piped laconically from her car radio as she debated her options for the umpteenth time.

She could go home… no. She could call one of the guys… at 2 AM… no. She could book a motel room. Oh please. This was ridiculous. Sitting here for another half hour was not going to give her any new ideas, nor would it make her inevitable decision any less gritting. She turned the key in the ignition again. The radio blinked off momentarily, then started up again along with her engine.

_But, if I tell the world  
I'll never say enough  
Cuz it was not said to you  
And that's exactly what I need to do  
If I end up with you…_

It was a good thing she knew the way to his apartment so well, and that passing traffic was few and in between at this hour of the night, because Jules's eyes seemed to process nothing while she drove. She was merely consumed by a combination of exhaustion from lack of sleep and dread at her approaching encounter.

_Should I give up,  
Or should I just keep chasin' pavements?  
Even if it leads nowhere_

_Or would it be a waste  
Even if I knew my place  
Should I leave it there_

_Should I give up,  
Or should I just keep chasin' pavements?  
Even if it leads nowhere…_

It was after she'd shut the engine that Jules realized she should call Sam to tell him she was coming. Her mind flicked briefly to his apartment key that she'd had on her key ring for several happy weeks, but it unfortunately no longer occupied a place amongst her assorted key chains - but it was no matter, anyway, because at this hour a phone call was a necessary courtesy.

Glancing at the clock, which read an ominous 2:08, Jules flipped open her cellphone and hit speed dial 2.

Riiiing… Riiiiiing… Riiiiiing…

"Hey, this is Sam. Leave a message."

Oh, damn. She hadn't considered the possibility that Sam wouldn't pick up.

Speed dial 2 again, then.

Riiiiing… Riiiiiing… Riiiiing…

"Hello?"

"Uh, hey. Sam."

"Yeah. Jules? What's – what's goin' on?" Sam asked groggily, trying to clear the sleep from his voice.

"I, uh… Um, I just wanted to ask you if it would be all right, if… I mean, I'd completely understand if it wasn't… I just wanted to know… oh geez."

"You're not one to be at a loss for words." He seemed more awake now.

"Uh huh."

"That wasn't even a word."

"Sam…" She was way too tired for this.

"Jules."

"Look, I just…"

"Jules, it's two o'clock in the morning, and if I didn't know better, I'd think you were drunk."

"I'm way more talkative when I'm drunk."

"Like I said, I know better."

A few moments of silence passed during which the ticking of Jules's watch seemed to be unnecessarily loud.

"Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh huh."

"Jules, what's wrong? And don't say nothing's wrong, cuz it must have taken a lot for you to call me."

"I wanted to ask you if I could stay at your house tonight," Jules said in a rush before she could chicken out again.

She waited nervously for a response, but none was immediately forthcoming.

"Um, hello?"

"Still here. Uh… you – you want to sleep at my house?" She could not blame him for sounding completely and utterly baffled by her request. Still, a prompt affirmative reply would have been nice.

"Yeah."

"Did something happen?"

"Um… uh, yeah."

"What happ – Wait, where are you? Do you need me to come get you?"

"I, uh – I'm, no, you don't need to, I'm – I'm outside."

"You're _outside_?"

Jules cringed at the sudden rise in decibel level, but he didn't sound angry, just flabbergasted. His phone clicked off abruptly, ending the call, and a moment later the porch was flooded with light and Sam was standing there in his pajama pants, squinting out at her car from the doorway.

Jules blew out a deep breath as she studied him for a long moment, then opened her car door and slid out.

_This is such a bad idea._


	5. Chapter 5

The swirling wisps of steam rising from the mug mesmerized Jules. Reaching forward to accept the proffered cup, she glanced at its contents and then looked up at Sam in surprise.

"Tea?" she asked quizzically.

"It seems appropriate." He shrugged nonchalantly and settled himself onto the sofa next to her.

They sat in silence, but whether it was a comfortable one, or an awkward one, or perhaps a pregnant one, Jules did not know or care. She continued to watch the seductive curls ascending from her mug, twisting and dancing upwards before evaporating into the cool night air. She made no move to actually drink the beverage – tea had never been her drink of choice, and she was in no mood to forge new ground here. She chose to watch it instead; her unblinking observation of its steam lulled her into a near-hypnotic state.

He might have said her name more than once, because the one that she now caught seemed a little louder than necessary. She didn't look up from her mug.

"Yeah."

"Don't do it."

"What?" At this she did look up. Sam was watching her seriously.

"Drown. You look like you're considering jumping in." The corner of his mouth twitched.

Jules considered his words for a moment, then despite herself, cracked a small smile. She leaned forward and set the mug down on the table in front of her.

"Parameter established. Is that better?"

"Level yellow."

With nothing to now occupy her hands or vision, Jules clasped her hands together and turned to face Sam. He was sitting there – just sitting there – and watching her. Waiting.

To break the silence more than anything else, Jules said, "So… I can stay here?"

"You're not going to tell me what happened?"

Jules flushed and looked away. "Is it necessary?"

"Is it necessary?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Jules, just tell me – what's going on?"

"Noth-"

"_Don't say nothing!_"

For the second time that night, Jules jumped from the shock of Sam's raised voice. This time, though, he was angry.

"Jules! There is something wrong – something happened – something in your life – I'm not trying to pry, Jules, but I want to help you! I _care_ about you Jules, can't you understand that? You've barely spoken a word to me for the past two weeks, ever since _you_ broke up with me, and now you're at my apartment at 2:30 AM, when something very bad has obviously happened, and you won't talk to me? Jules, _tell me_ _what's going on_!"

She now realized that she had misread his disposition. It wasn't anger that was fuelling his tirade, but passion. Concern. His eyes were burning into hers, so intently, so caringly – and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach, and a boiling, churning rage began building inside her.

"Why do you _care _so much?" she said angrily. "What can't you just let me _be?"_

"So I should just 'go to sleep' right now, not knowing if somebody hurt you, if – "

"_Nobody hurt me! _Why do you _always _think that? That just because I'm a _girl,_ I'm weak, and vulnerable, and I need a strong, brave _hero_ to –"

"I never said you're weak, Jules, don't be an idiot! But _everyone_ needs_ someone_!"

"_WELL, I_ _DON'T_!"

She had jumped to her feet and was shouting as loud as she could. Maybe he'd finally hear her, maybe he'd stop -

"_DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP_!"

Aaaaand maybe not.

Jules and Sam stood there for a moment, staring each other down, breathing heavily.

Sam broke the silence first, making an obvious effort at civility. "Jules, I care about you. And whether you like it or not, I always will. We're partners, Jules, and that's what partners do - stick with each other. Watch each other's backs. I have your back, Jules. I always will."

To Jules's intense embarrassment, she felt her eyes tearing up at Sam's words. She was just so, so, tired, and he cared, he really did… For one wild moment, she considered throwing herself into his arms, letting him hold her close, letting him soothe her pain away…

The sleepy voice that interrupted her thoughts did not belong to either partner.

"What the hell…"

Sam sighed and closed his eyes.

Jules stopped breathing.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who the hell is _she_?"

In any situation but this one, the sight would have been comical - the question was asked by two women at the exact same time. One of the women was Jules. The other was currently leaning against the doorway of Sam's bedroom, her rumpled t-shirt and mussed up hair making it very clear that she had just been awakened by the din.

Jules stared at her in complete shock. Sam had a _girl_ sleeping here? What – what - what the _hell_?

"Go back to sleep, Carrie," Sam said tiredly, rubbing his jaw. "It's all right."

The slender brunette in the doorway looked as if the situation was definitely _not_ all right, but shrugged, pointedly looked Jules up and down, and retreated into the room, shutting the door behind her.

The second that the door clicked closed, Jules whirled around to face Sam, her words coming out in a low hiss so as not to be overheard.

"You have a _girl_ sleeping here!"

"Yes, Jules."

"What the – who – what – and you just stand there and –" She couldn't even form a coherent sentence, she was so worked up.

"Who's the whore?" she finally spat out.

Sam flushed an angry shade of red. "Maybe you've forgotten, _Jules_, but we had a conversation at a coffee shop three weeks ago during which you _broke up with me_. I am _single_, Jules, and I can have sex with whomever I want, so stop acting like I'm – stabbing you in the back or something."

"You don't even – I can't believe – and you've just been sitting here and lecturing me about trust –"

Sam stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What on earth are you talking about, Jules?"

Truth be told, Jules didn't know herself. All she knew was that she was shocked, and angry, and – and _betrayed_.

"How could you do this to me?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"You know exactly what the problem is!"

"No, I don't, so if you'd be so kind as to share it with me, it would be much appreciated!"

"I never took you for the playboy type, Sam, but I guess I was _wrong_."

"Well, I never took you for the jealous ex-girlfriend type, Jules, but I guess_ I_ was wrong."

"Don't you dare blame this on me!"

"Blame what?! That you're standing in my living room at 3 AM having a conniption because I brought home a girl? Jules, what the hell is your problem?!"

"I just broke up with you! And you've already got a girlfriend? Wow, Sam, do you feel _manly_ now?"

"Jules, let me introduce you to a little concept. It's called a 'Rebound'. And Carrie happened to catch it."

"Oh, _Carrie_ caught it. Well, maybe you should go back to _bed_, Sam. Wouldn't want _Carrie_ to be lonely," Jules said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do you know what I think?"

"What do you think, Sam?"

"I think that you really need some sleep, Jules. I don't know what happened to you, or what you're so angry about, but I think you just need to go to sleep and figure things out in the morning."

"Go to sleep. Yeah. Right. I'll sleep here on the couch, shall I, with Carrie sleeping in your bed? I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I'll sleep in the car."

Jules turned on her heel and stormed out.

She dropped her keys three times while trying to unlock her car door with fumbling fingers, but she finally got it open, and climbed into the driver's seat. Catching a glance of herself in the rear-view mirror, Jules did a double-take and stared at her reflection in shock.

_Who is this haggard, puffy eyed woman staring back at me? When did I become so spiteful, so mean? Why am I so angry at Sam? What is _wrong_ with me??_

Jules closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She was so confused, so tired…

She was not pleased to hear the passenger door open.

"Jules, come inside."

"No." She was too tired for this. So, so, tired.

"Jules, like hell I'm going to let you sleep in your car. Come inside."

"No."

Sam slid into the passenger seat and turned to look at Jules. She refused to return the favor.

"Jules. I understand you're upset. But can't we just be adults about this? Come inside!"

"Sam…" She wanted to fix things. She really did. But she was just so tired, so, so, tired…

"What?"

"I can't deal with you right now. Please leave me alone."

"Do you want me to stay in the car with you?"

"No, I don't want you to stay in the car with me!" Jules snapped. "Have you heard a damn thing I've said all night? I don't need a _hero_, I don't need a _savior_, I don't need a _big, strong, _man to protect me. Carrie, on the other hand, would probably enjoy having your big, strong, manly self in bed right now. So get out of my car and leave me alone!"

Sam stared at her, stung. Then he opened the door, slipped out, and said quietly, "Jules, right now, I don't even know who you are."

The passenger door slammed shut, and Jules dropped her head onto the steering wheel.

_Sam, right now, I don't even know who I am myself._

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: Ouch. This was painful to write. **


	7. Chapter 7

It was four-thirty AM when Jules fell asleep, and it was six-thirty AM when she woke.

Groaning unhappily, she massaged a crick in her neck and rotated her shoulders, trying to loosen the tension and strain in – well, every muscle in her body. Spending a night in her car was apparently not an efficient way to receive a good night's sleep.

The steady pounding in her temples convinced her that today was not a day to go into work. Too exhausted to hold a proper conversation, she flipped open her phone and typed out a short message to Sgt. Parker.

"Sarge – won't be coming in today. Sick. I'll call later. Jules."

Knowing that Greg would connect her sudden 'illness' to last night's conversation, but too tired to care, Jules hit 'send' and tossed her phone onto her purse, feeling that the simple task had drained every ounce of energy she had. Her phone chirped loudly, though, and she leaned over – ouch, that back muscle was really sore – to retrieve her phone from where she'd dropped it. There was a message on her screen, but it wasn't from Sergeant Parker.

'Breakfast?'

Debating her response, Jules suddenly became aware that she was absolutely ravenous. Food sounded pretty good.

Unbuckling her seatbelt – why on earth had she slept with it on, anyway? – she picked up her purse and phone and walked up to Sam's door, where she knocked gently. It opened right away, and Jules wondered if Sam had been watching her from the window.

"Good morning," Sam said, stepping aside to let Jules in. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he was dressed in a fresh t-shirt and jeans. His face belied his bright appearance though – he seemed to have gotten little more sleep than Jules had.

"I almost called in sick," he said when he noticed Jules's gaze, "but I figured you would, and I didn't want people to talk."

"That was really thoughtful of you," Jules said with surprise. They were the first words she had spoken to Sam that day. She hoped their pleasant tone was a good omen of the day to come.

Following Sam into the kitchen, she saw that he had set out cereal and milk on his kitchen table. There were only two bowls out, and Jules looked around quizzically before Sam said, "Carrie left."

He said it rather quickly, and Jules felt a slight pang of remorse – had she chased her away? Sensing the unasked question, Sam expounded, "She works early. She's a paralegal."

Jules gave a small, rather forced smile, and sat heavily into a chair, wincing slightly at the cacophony of protests from various muscles. Sam was already pouring her a bowl of Corn Chex. Of course he knew that's what she'd eat – he'd watched her eat it at his kitchen table countless times, on much happier mornings than this one, mornings that followed much more pleasurable nights than the one that had just passed.

Jules took a few bites of cereal, but found that rather than settling her stomach, the food made her rather queasy. She pushed the bowl away from her, nauseous.

"You need to go back to sleep," Sam said mildly. Jules merely nodded.

Sam stood up and disappeared into his room for a moment, then reappeared holding a grey t-shirt, which he held out to Jules. Too tired to debate the wisdom of it, Jules accepted the shirt and changed out of her crumpled clothing from the day before. She left them lying in a pile and climbed into Sam's bed, burying her head into his pillow and inhaling his familiar scent.

"I'll be back at four," Sam said from the doorway. Was that tenderness in his voice? She wasn't sure she deserved that, after last night's fiasco… trust Sam to not hold it against her, though… good old Sam…

It was seven-thirty AM when Jules fell asleep. It was four-thirty PM when she awoke.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: The worst is over. The best will be a while in coming, though.**


	8. Chapter 8

She was so blissfully comfortable that it was quite a few minutes before Jules even opened her eyes. She had to admit, the world looked so much better from this side of a solid sleep. She burrowed herself deeper into the blankets, feeling euphorically light from the relaxation that now flowed through her.

_A decent sleep does miracles, _she mused idly. _I feel so much better than I did this morning, or last – oh no…_ She groaned inwardly, hazy memories swimming to the forefront of her consciousness. _Last night…_

Jules rolled over and threw an arm over her eyes. _I really can't believe I acted like that. I just was so upset at myself for having to go to Sam's place at all… I was too scared to go home! And then he just had to try and be all 'protective', the brave hero… He just doesn't get it, does he. He _is _my shelter. I think my showing up here at 2 AM proved that point. But that's what I hate about him – no, not him, me. I hate that I need a shelter, that I might need somebody to – to… _Even in the privacy of her thoughts, it was hard for Jules to say it. _I hate that I need somebody protect me. And Sam… _

Jules suddenly sat bolt upright.

_Oh geez! I'm lying in Sam's bed! Not good… _

She hurriedly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, dizzy for a moment from the sudden change in position. Steadying herself, she crossed the room and picked up her discarded clothing from the night before, but no matter how much she tried, she could not convince herself to put them back on.

_They smell. And they're dirty. And crumpled. No way am I putting these gross things back on._

Resigned, she left her clothing lying where it was, and headed out of the bedroom in search of Sam. He wasn't hard to find.

_I forgot how cute he looks when he's sleeping,_ Jules thought fondly, looking down at Sam's sprawled out form on the sofa. She felt a guilty twinge when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept too well last night…

Jules glanced around the apartment and then back at Sam's sleeping form, momentarily stumped as to what her next move should be.

Then, deciding, she picked up her purse, keys, and phone, and gathered her laundry into a pile under her arm.

She paused at the door to glance back at Sam, the even rise and fall of his chest visible even from her vantage point.

_Don't tousle his hair,_ she told herself sternly. Then she grinned and left the apartment, gently clicking the door shut behind her.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

Jules didn't last nearly as long as she would have liked.

She was fine, initially, upon re-entering her house. Pleasantly surprised at her lack of fear, she went about showering, changing, and making herself a very belated breakfast. She debated for a while about what to do with Sam's grey t-shirt that she had been wearing, and had even gone so far as to stick it under her pillow when she managed to patiently persuade herself, as if speaking to a small child, to remove it and put in by the door to return to Sam when she saw him next.

The first hint that something was wrong came when Jules noticed that the sky outside her window was darkening. A niggle of worry settled itself in the pit of her stomach.

An hour later, her growing unease had transitioned into full-fledged panic mode.

She could not stop herself, no matter how she tried, from checking the windows, and bolting the door, and jumping at small noises, and resisting the powerful urge to keep her gun handy, and checking the windows again…

It was when she realized that she was too afraid to enter her bedroom that she resigned herself to the inevitable.

She listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, half hoping that there would be no answer. No such luck – Sam picked up in middle of the second ring.

"Jules?"

"Hey… Sam."

"What's going on, sweetheart?" His voice was gentle.

_Did he have to call me that?_

"I, uh…" She sighed. "Can I – um, can I spend the night at your house?"


	9. Chapter 9

A week passed.

Jules had settled into a routine of sleeping in Sam's living room, and her consistent presence showed - his bathroom shelf was cluttered with her various toiletries, his coffee table was now home to her laptop and ammo, and his coat closet was filled with an assortment of female shoes and clothing.

She had tried sleeping at home three times but had ended up on Sam's sofa on all three occasions, until she finally gave up the charade of going home altogether and started driving straight to Sam's after work.

Sam was, for the most part, a silently consenting partner in the events. He had quickly learned that although Jules's initial icy attitude had thawed considerably – she was quite ashamed of her earlier behavior - there were still some very touchy points to tiptoe around, or risk another blow-up.

Like the time he'd mentioned Carrie, in passing. He would've thought she'd be glad – he was merely telling Jules that he'd ended things with the girl – but Jules abruptly stood up from the table and left the room. Not glad, then. Well, that had turned out better than the time Sam had brought up their breakup – the sharp comments she had made in response still stung when he recalled them, and he wasn't too proud of the things he'd said in return either.

No, Sam had learned that the best way to support Jules right now was just to _be_ , and not to try and solve her life's problems. Jules needed him - though she was loathe to admit it - and that was enough for Sam. Enough for now, at least…

"Man, that girl really screwed up," Jules said, absentmindedly popping another tortilla chip into her mouth. She was sitting on the sofa watching a DVD with Sam, her legs out to the side and her torso turned just so, so that she was almost but not actually leaning against Sam's shoulder.

"Mmm," was Sam's noncommittal response. Truth be told, the movie was starting to upset him. War flicks had completely lost their luster to him ever since he'd participated in actual combat. The movie's production staff had done a great job reproducing realistic war injuries on the on-screen soldiers being wheeled into the British hospital, and Sam couldn't help but feel that he should check the faces to see if perhaps one of his buddies was on a stretcher. He took a swig of beer and tried not to think about it.

The scenes transitioned from the bloody soldiers back to the protagonist's attempts to fix her past mistakes. This Sam could relate to. He was a problem solver. Heck, it's what he did for a living. His eyes flicked between the characters interestedly, following the heated discussion, when a barely audible sniff caused him to turn around.

"Are you _crying_?" he asked Jules incredulously.

She shook her head furiously, but her chin wobbled slightly, and – yes, there was a definite glitter in her eyes.

"I don't believe it," Sam said with a teasing smile. "You cry during movies! How could I not have noticed this before?"

"I don't!" Jules defended herself, wiping her eyes. "I don't, I just – it's just _this_ stupid movie! Winnie told me it was a tear-jerker when she recommended it, and she was right. Stupid sad movies," she muttered.

"Then why'd you rent it?"

Jules rolled her wet eyes. "Because James McAvoy is in it. He's an incredibly gifted actor, _and_ he's really good-looking." Then, noticing Sam's raised eyebrows, she added quickly, "…but not as good-looking as you, of course."

They both realized what she had said at the same moment. Jules blushed and looked away. Sam regarded her intently, then turned back to the on-screen drama.

The movie didn't end well, and tears were dripping down Jules's nose and onto Sam's shirt by the time the end credits rolled. He had his arm around her shoulders, and was absentmindedly stroking her hair.

It was only when the menu screen of the DVD reappeared that Sam spoke.

"Jules," he said quietly, looking down at her.

"Yeah." She didn't turn her head towards him.

"What are the lines here?"

"What?" She sat up at that, and swiveled around so that her body was no longer touching his. Sam was watching her with a slightly pained expression on his face.

"What are the lines here?"

"The lines of what?" she asked cautiously.

"Us."

Jules swallowed and studied her hands for a moment. That finger she had jammed yesterday was quite an interesting shade of violet…

"Jules."

She finally looked back up at him, giving an uncertain one-shouldered shrug as she said slowly, "Well… we're – we're just… friends, so… so just, I mean – it's okay," she gestured with her right hand, referring to both the current living and seating arrangements, "…but we just shouldn't…" she trailed off momentarily, remembering the feel of Sam's fingers stroking her hair minutes before.

"You could sleep in my bed, you know," Sam said in a rush. "I wouldn't – I mean, you don't have to worry about… about anything you don't want… I just – what are our lines here, Jules?"

An image of herself in Sam's bed, curled up next to him, flashed in Jules's mind, and she instantly knew that it would be a very, very bad idea.

"No," she said quickly. Then, catching herself, she said in a stronger voice, "No, I think that's crossing… I think, I mean, our lines? I guess – I guess we just shouldn't… kiss…" her voice trailed off, and despite herself, her eyes were drawn down to Sam's lips as the words died on hers.

Her brown eyes flickered up to his blue ones, and they were burning into hers with that intense, strong gaze of his, and the air between them suddenly seemed to disappear – why couldn't she breathe? – as neither moved a millimeter, because they both knew that that's all it would take for this night to take a very different turn –

A forbidden turn. A messy, confusing turn.

They stared at each other for an infinite moment, or perhaps an infinitesimal one. Sam broke the silence.

"I'm going to get more beer," he said hoarsely, and walked to the kitchen, bumping into the corner table as he went.

Jules watched his retreating back, then glanced at the unopened six-pack on the table and said nothing.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: Ah, angst. Next update will be Saturday night or maybe Sunday. Have a good weekend ******


	10. Chapter 10

"…to Constables Braddock and Callaghan, for completing today's work…"

Jules looked up in pleasant surprise. Beer and chips was definitely a better alternative than a grueling debriefing – though she'd certainly had her fill of beer and chips last night. The six-pack on the coffee table had contained nothing but empty bottles by the time Jules had dropped off to sleep. One of those nights.

"…without displays of public affection…"

Jules blushed at Greg's words, but she didn't mind them. Hey, if it meant that the team was accepting the forbidden-relationship-that-was-but-is-no-longer, it was good news to her. She even spared Sam a smile, and he grinned back, though his cheeks were slightly redder than their usual hue.

It had been a good day, in the end. Nobody died, hey… that was definitely something to be proud of… Jules took a swig of beer and watched Spike's pleased embarrassment as Greg complimented him on his take-down of a subject.

"_Déjà vu?"_

Jules shook her head slightly and tried to focus on Greg's praise for Wordy. An SOB, huh?

"_Around this corridor about a hundred times… you leaning on my arm…"_

Jules's jaw tightened imperceptibly.

"_You did always like me best when I needed you."_

Jules groaned inwardly. Come on, this meeting had turned out _not_ to be a debriefing… so why did she feel so impelled to go over every word of the conversations she'd held with Sam today? Would it help her get over him any more easily, would she understand him any better?

"_Come on, everybody needs to be needed. Gives you something to shoot for."_

She blinked at that memory. _ Everybody needs to be needed_, she mulled, rolling the thought around her mind as one would a pencil on a desk. _Everybody needs to be needed. _

_So Sam needs me to need him?_ she puzzled, absentmindedly tracing her finger around the cool glass of her beer bottle. _Does that mean that he only likes me when I'm vulnerable? If I'm weak? That's exactly what I was afraid of. He wants me to be the helpless one, so he can be the protector… _

Unbidden, another memory interrupted Jules's train of thought.

"_You don't see too many female snipers. That's kind of sexy."_

Jules's eyebrows creased together in confusion. Sam had liked her from the start because she was a sniper… an independent woman who could fend for herself. So wait, why… how did that make sense, with what he'd said today, with what she was so certain of, with what irked her so much…

_I'm missing something here. _

Eager to distract herself from the puzzle that was Sam Braddock, she looked across the table and raised her beer slightly.

"Spike… nice take-down, buddy."

"Thanks."

"That's what you're doing these days, playing tackle football?"

"Oh, every morning, before breakfast."

Jules smiled at her lanky teammate. All six of these guys were family to her, but Spike… you couldn't help but have a special soft spot for the brainy and slightly socially awkward guy.

"So did you get Babycakes up and running this morning, in the end?"

Spike's face lit up fondly at the mention of the team's pet robot.

"Yeah, turns out her gears are a bit tight from the humidity we've been having around here. I found her a new home in the basement, where it's a lot cooler than the regular storage room. That should fix her right up," Spike responded.

"You really do take care of that old thing," Jules said, surveying him with amused admiration.

"Hey, it's a two-way street, Jules. I take care of her, she takes care of me. We protect each other," Spike said nonchalantly. Then he added wistfully, "Would be nice if she was glad to see me in the mornings, though… I'm sure she is, there's just no way for her to show it…"

Jules's eyebrows rose into her hairline.

"Spike, you need a girlfriend."

"I've heard that one before."

"Stick around me, you'll hear it again."

Spike laughed, and Jules turned back to her beer and ruminations, with Spike's words now intermingling with today's memories.

"_It's a two-way street. I take care of her, she takes care of me..." "Everybody needs to be needed..."_

What was it about emotional protection that she was so against? Jules wondered. Didn't look like anyone else had a problem relying on others. Heck, every member of her team relied on each other every day just to stay alive. She didn't have issue with that. It was the personal stuff she couldn't get her mind around – the whole emotional support thing… didn't that mean, by definition, that one had to be weak, and the other strong?

"_Gives you something to shoot for."_

The sentiment resonated in Jules's head, and she pursed her lips, concentrating. _Gives you something to shoot for. _Was that the missing piece here? Maybe – maybe it meant –

"Ready to go?"

The words were murmured in Jules's direction in a voice so low she barely caught it. Her nod in response was equally as discreet. It was nobody's business that she was giving Sam a lift home today. They had both woken up late this morning after last night's… incident, and taking his bike would've made him late for work. So it was a good few minutes apart that Sam and Jules rose from the table and made their respective goodbyes to the team.

Jules was the second of the two to leave, and she rifled through her purse for her keys as she approached Sam, who was leaning against her truck in the parking garage.

Finally finding and pulling out her keys, she tossed them to Sam, who barely caught them, surprised.

"You want me to drive?"

"Could you? My head's hurting."

"Sure, no problem," Sam said, opening the driver's side door. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jules said, buckling her seatbelt and leaning her head back. "Just tired."

Sam started the car and shifted into reverse. "Sleeping on a couch for too long will do that to you."

"I am not sleeping in your bed tonight, Sam, don't start."

"Chill out, Jules, that's not what I'm suggesting."

"All right, what are you suggesting?"

"I think you should go home, Jules," Sam said, glancing at her to gauge her reaction.

"What?" Hmm, a mixture of surprise, and… fear?

"Look, it's not that I don't enjoy having you," Sam said quickly, "but don't you think it's time for you to go home? You're much more comfortable there, and let's face it, the current arrangement is getting to be a bit… confusing," Sam ended, pulling up to a stop at a red light.

"I am not confused," Jules said defensively.

"I am." He said it simply and honestly, and the prickly responses that she always had ready for times like this refused to surface.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Jules did look up until the car had come to a halt and Sam cut the engine. Then she glanced out of her window apprehensively. The familiar sight of her home, usually a source of warmth and relief, now filled her insides with a myriad of emotions that she couldn't even begin to untangle. She hadn't been home at night since – since _that _night, and she was just plain scared. Why, oh why, did Sam have to do this to her?

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt when he saw that Jules had made no move to unbuckle hers.

"Do you want me to come inside with you?" he asked, removing the keys from the ignition and handing them back to their owner.

Jules looked up at her partner. He looked back at her steadily.

_If there's one thing that Sam is, it's steady… _

Her response was almost inaudible.

"Yes."

He nodded and opened his door. After a moment and taking a very deep breath, Jules opened hers.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP***

**AN: I mapped out the Babycakes conversation before watching "Exit Wounds" – it's just providential that they included a Spike/BC scene in that episode! And those Sam and Jules scenes warmed my mushy shippering heart. Those two will make it through, I'm sure of it.**


	11. Chapter 11

"Well, that should do it…" Jules said, surveying her handiwork. She thought she had done a decent job of converting her non-sleeper sofa into a sleeping-conducive surface. Heck, she'd even given Sam her own comforter and put the grey throw onto her bed.

Sam looked at the couch slightly doubtfully, then turned and plopped himself down onto it, fully clothed. He bounced slightly, shrugged, and then gave Jules a thumbs-up gesture.

"It'll definitely do," he concurred, standing up again.

Both stood and looked at the bedded-down couch for a moment. Both tried not to think of the fact that in all the times Sam had slept at Jules's house, the couch had not been the place he'd spent the night. Both failed miserably at that little exercise.

"I appreciate your staying here," Jules said slightly stiffly, turning towards her kitchen. "Beer?"

"I think I've had enough beer for today," Sam said, now sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the sofa. "Late-night television?"

Jules paused, then turned back. "Sure." She sat down on the blue recliner in the corner. Sam reached over for the remote and flipped on Jules's TV set. Bright promotional images of air-freshener filled the screen, and Sam spent the next few minutes laconically flipping through sixty-five channels before clicking the set off and tossing the remote aside. He turned to look at Jules for her input as to the evening's entertainment, but she wasn't looking at him at all – she was looking at the window apprehensively, as if expecting it to impulsively blow out, or perhaps to see a T-Rex through it.

"Jules."

She jumped. "Yeah?"

"You're really quiet tonight."

She shrugged uncertainly. "I'm thinking," was all she could come up with.

"Want to share?"

"Not really."

Sam nodded his acceptance and leaned across the rug to fetch the remote from where he'd dropped it.

_He wouldn't have done that a few weeks ago_, Jules mused, watching him turn back to the TV and flip it on again. _He would've kept probing until I talked… or got mad._

Sam turned the TV off once again and leaned back against the couch.

_He's changed,_ Jules realized suddenly. _He's… he's much more… it's almost like he cares more about what I want than what he does. _She studied her partner with a newfound respect. _Wow. Never met one of those before. That's – that's really something._

Oblivious to his sudden elevated status in Jules's eyes, Sam heaved himself to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. When he reemerged, he was dressed in his comfortable pajama pants and what looked like a brand-new pajama top. He pirouetted for Jules's inspection, then said amiably, "I bought the pajama top for your benefit."

His announcement drew a slight giggle from Jules, who found her feelings towards her house guest to be much warmer after her newfound discovery as to his personal priorities.

Sam looked gratefully surprised at Jules's reaction. He sat down on the sofa-turned bed and said casually, straightening the comforter, "It's been a while since I've made you laugh."

"That's probably been more my fault than yours," Jules admitted.

"I was getting worried." He stretched out on the sofa and folded his arms behind his head.

"Don't be."

"No?" He looked up at her searchingly. "You haven't been yourself for the past several days."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." It was his turn to say it. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Even for biting your head off whenever I get the chance?"

"Well, I'll admit that's not my favorite thing, but –"

"Why do you bother?" Jules asked suddenly.

"What?" Sam lifted his head from the pillow and surveyed Jules with puzzlement.

"Why do you bother with me?" She was leaning forward, looking at Sam soberly.

"Bother with you? I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"I broke up with you," Jules said, unconsciously beginning to twist her hands in her lap. "Our relationship is over - it's not coming back. But you're still _here_. You know this isn't – this isn't leading to anything. We're not – going anywhere. So why do you still bother with me?"

Sam sat up and leaned forward in an instinctive mirroring of Jules's position. Her hands stilled as she waited for his response, for once neither of them breaking the eye contact they held.

"Jules," Sam said softly, his eyes searching hers. "I'm here because I love you."

Whatever she had been bracing herself for, it wasn't this. Her eyes widened in confusion and she stuttered, "But we're – we're not – this isn't going –"

"I know." His voice was gentle and understanding.

"So why – "

"I love you, Jules. I'd take a bullet for you any day. I wish – I wish I could have, that time. I'm here because I care about you. Jules, as long as you want me to be here I'm not leaving you. And when – when you do want me to leave, I'll go, I will. But if you ever need me – I'll be there for you, Jules. I love you."

Jules looked completely bewildered. Sam began to settle back into the sofa, not expecting a response from her. Then, thinking better of it, he looked up to where she was sitting frozen on the recliner.

"Jules?"

"What?" It emerged as a whisper.

"Do you still love me?"

His clear blue eyes searched her face probingly.

_Do I still love him? _Jules thought dizzily. _I did – I did love him, and I suppose – I mean, things got in the way, and work, and life, and I couldn't just give up everything I've worked for to be with him, so we – I ended things, but I never really – do I still love him?_

She looked up at Sam, still watching her intently.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I guess I do."

A smile spread across Sam's features, and Jules felt herself smile too. A cozy warmth unlike anything she'd ever known began to spread throughout her entire body, as if emanating from the very pulsing of her heart. She felt – she felt _content_. The closest thing she could compare it too was the way she used to feel when Sam used to hug her close to him. Now, sitting clear across the room from him, she felt the same intimacy radiating between them. Not that sizzling, crackling electricity she'd so long associated with romantic relationships – this was different. This was the flow of heat that emerges from the car vents on those freezing winter days, that breathes life back into your stiff limbs as you rub your hands in front of it. This was _nice._

Jules remained in the recliner for another half hour at least, neither one speaking but both basking in the security of the knowledge of the other's affection. At half past eleven, Jules finally stood up and made her way into her bedroom, quietly wishing Sam a good night as she did so.

Her door clicked shut behind her and she climbed into bed, laying down on her back and releasing a deep breath. The lights of passing cars created shimmering shadows on the ceiling. Flickering shadows… dancing shadows… breathing shadows… and once again, her house was breathing along with her…

"_Sam loves me," she told her house earnestly. "He said so himself." The walls hummed blissfully, in tempo with the peace that Jules felt inside. She smiled at their song, and tried to hum along, but the tune was getting faster, and she couldn't keep up. "Slow down," she giggled. "You're humming too fast." But it wasn't her home's humming that was speeding ever faster, she realized - it was the house's breathing... Faster and faster it went, until Jules and her home were gasping for breath. _

_She stumbled towards the door of her bedroom and threw it open to go to Sam – go to Sam – he said he would always be there – but the sofa was empty and Sam was gone. She turned back to her room, and saw Sam standing by the armoire, and this time she knew what would happen even before he turned around, and tried to scream for him to stop, to stay where he was, but he turned around anyway, and it wasn't Sam anymore. The intruder started towards Jules with a twisted sneer, and the walls were screaming, screaming along with her…_


	12. Chapter 12

It was her screaming that woke him. He was off of the couch and by her side in three seconds flat. She was bathed in sweat, and thrashing horribly in a state he'd never seen her before. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her firmly.

"Jules! _Jules!_ "

She continued to scream, her features contorted in fear.

Tears sprang to Sam's eyes as he maintained his grip on Jules's shoulders and continued to shake her.

"Jules! Jules, wake up, sweetheart! You're dreaming - _Jules!"_

Jules's eyes flew open in terror. Still in the clutches of her dream, she frantically scrabbled at Sam's arms, trying desperately to push him away from her. He immediately dropped his hands from her shoulders when he realized what she was doing. Now awake, her screams had been replaced by a frightened whimpering that tore Sam's gut in two.

Afraid to move or speak in fear of startling her further, he remained where he was, completely motionless, until Jules finally stilled and spoke.

"S-Sam? Is th-that you?" She was sitting straight up in bed and staring at him – he wasn't more than a foot away, could she really not tell?

"I'm here, sweetheart."

"Oh my god…" Jules bent over and started to cry in earnest. Sam was at an absolute loss as for what to do. He had never seen Jules cry like this – ever. He had never seen Jules so scared. _To hell with the rules_, he thought, and sat himself down next to Jules on her bed, hugging her close and nestling her head beneath his chin. Her entire body was shaking as she cried. Sam gently rocked her back and forth, wondering what past trauma could possibly be haunting her so, and quickly discarding the variety of horrific possibilities that rose to mind.

_Why won't she let me in?_ Sam thought miserably. _I love this woman so much, and she won't let me protect her… Doesn't she know, doesn't she understand? _He looked down at the petite form curled up into his chest, and his throat constricted from the wave of sympathy and concern that swelled in his chest.

She wasn't shaking anymore, he noted. He tried to pull back slightly to look at her face, but she clung to him and wouldn't let go. "I'm right here, Jules," he whispered reassuringly into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

Indeed he wasn't, for after fifteen minutes of further somber contemplation as to Jules's unwillingness to open up to Sam, Sam suddenly realized that Jules had fallen asleep in his arms, her breathing audibly steady. Loathe to wake her, Sam gingerly leaned over and laid the two of them into a lying position on the bed without removing his arms from around her.

_She'll give me hell for this in the morning,_ he thought wryly as he looked down at her tear-streaked face,_ but I don't really care. _

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered to her sleeping form.

Sam closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still holding Jules in his arms.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

He was right, of course. Jules did give him hell in the morning.

But first, she made him breakfast.

"Good morning," she greeted him as he entered the kitchen at quarter to seven. Sam smiled in return, then blinked in surprise at the repast that was laid out on the table.

"What happened to yoghurt or smoothies?" he asked, taking in the stacks of pancakes and fruit.

Jules shrugged. "I felt like cooking," she said nonchalantly, popping a strawberry into her mouth. Sam grinned and sat down in a chair, pulling the serving plate towards him. "Not sure that pancake mix counts as cooking," he teased, helping himself to three pancakes.

"Is this complaining I hear?"

Sam shook his head vigorously, mouth full of pancake. Jules smiled wanly and sat down across from him. She had two pancakes on her plate, but instead of eating them, was carefully dissecting them into perfectly even squares, which she then rearranged in various patterns on her plate while Sam ate.

Setting his fork down on his now cleared plate, Sam tilted his chair back on two legs and said, "All right, go ahead."

"What?" She hated when he read her that easily.

Sam set his chair back down and surveyed her attentively. Sighing, Jules placed her fork down and stated, "I'm sorry."

Sam's brow creased in puzzlement. "For what?"

"What do you mean, 'for what'? I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry about last night. I – I don't know what happened."

Sam drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, studying Jules. "Is that what this breakfast was – an apology? Jules, you have nothing to apologize for. You had a nightmare. It happens."

"To six year olds," she snapped.

"Not exclusively."

"When's the last time _you _had a nightmare?"

"I got them all the time after Afghanistan. I had to take sleeping meds to get rid of them, Jules."

"Well…" Jules was momentarily stymied. "That's not what this is about," she said finally.

"Then what is this about?" His head was tilted slightly, and he was observing her with eyes filled with – sympathy? Empathy? She could not tell. Either way, the sentiment was, at the moment, decidedly unwelcome.

"This is – this is – it's about this being _wrong_, Sam," Jules said exasperatedly. "You shouldn't have to – I shouldn't be – this is so messed up."

"I didn't mind being with you last night, if that's what you're worried about," Sam said.

"No, that _is _the problem!" Jules exclaimed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You _don't_ mind! But you – you _should_! We're – we're not a couple, Sam, and this is just – this is just so stupid, because I can't even stay at my own house by myself right now, so I'm dragging you into this, and – and then you – I don't even know what you think, but – this isn't going to be any more than what it is, and how the hell does it help if I tell you that I – that I – that I care about you, and it's just – I'm just leading you on, and it's not fair."

Sam tilted his chair back again, confusion evident on his face. "Jules – can't we just – can't I just be there for you without any agendas? I mean – I don't expect you to marry me or something, you made a choice about us and I'm respecting it – but why is it so hard for you that I want to help you? I can't just stop caring about you, Jules. Why does it upset you so much?"

She had stood up while he spoke and now placed her hands on the countertop as she replied.

"It's because you're - you're chasing pavement."

"Huh?"

Jules bit her lip and turned back around.

"Maybe – maybe you can go home tonight, Sam. I'll be fine here."

Sam looked doubtful. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

Sam wasn't.

**FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

His record was two-for-two now, he thought that night as he lay on Jules's sofa beneath her comforter. Maybe he should start taking out bets on the racetrack…

He strained to hear any sounds coming from Jules's bedroom, but there were none. Reassured, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

A week passed.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam's eyes didn't waver a single millimeter from his target. He gazed straight through his scope at the man's head, trigger finger poised and ready.

"Hold, Sam," his earbud crackled. Not moving a single muscle, Sam replied, "Copy," and maintained his immobile position.

Jules and Wordy were shepherding a group of terrified children towards what appeared to be their anxious parents waiting behind the yellow tape. The children were in various stages of shock, many of them crying loudly, a few still clutching onto backpacks and lunch bags despite Jules's instructions to leave their belongings behind.

Wordy lifted the tape to let the children walk underneath it, giving an anxious look towards the Seargant, who was pacing back and forth and speaking persuasively into his cellphone.

A sudden rumble of a motor caused the entire gathered crowd to jump in fear. To the relief of everyone gathered, the school bus that they all turned to remained sitting in its precarious position on the edge of the bridge, and did not move.

Ed looked worriedly at the school bus, and exchanged glances with Greg. "It's your call, Sarge," he said. "There are three kids still trapped inside that bus, and we're running out of time. He's still at level red."

Greg's jaw set. Ed recognized the look and patted him on the shoulder empathetically.

"Sam," Greg said quietly. "Scorp –"

"-Boss! Wait! I got the wife!" Lou's voice cut through Sgt. Parker's order. "She's here, I'm bringing her in. Let her talk to him!"

Greg cast his eyes heavenward for a brief moment, and then spoke again into his mike. "All right, Sam, hold. Let's give the wife a chance to speak to the subject. Copy?"

"Copy," Sam said. He still hadn't moved. Neither had the man in his crosshairs.

Lou hurried towards Sgt. Parker, guiding a middle-aged woman by the arm. Greg conferred with her for a moment, then handed her his cellphone. She spoke a few words, listened for a moment, then promptly burst into tears.

"Spike, you getting this?" Greg murmured into his earpiece.

"I got it boss, audio coming at ya in three… two… one," Spike replied, and the sounds of the phone conversation began filtering into Greg's ear.

Jules and Wordy finished pairing off children and their parents with paramedics, and hurried back to watch the proceedings.

"She's doing it," Greg murmured, his hand on his ear and his eyes on the distraught woman, who was speaking earnestly through her tears. "He's at a level yellow. Sam, keep holding, subject is decelerating."

Greg turned and gestured wordlessly to Ed and Wordy, who shouldered their weapons and hustled towards the school bus, crouching by the rear door and out of the driver's line of sight.

A few moments later, the door of the school bus slowly opened. Two little girls and a boy stumbled down the steps and out the doors, where Wordy quickly led them away from the bus. Ed remained where he was until the figure of a man appeared on the bottom step, his hands raised over his head. Within moments, Ed had his hands cuffed behind his back, and was leading him by the shoulder towards a squad car.

"Subject contained, no injuries, no casualties," Greg reported into his mike, relief evident in his voice. "Good work, team."

Jules watched Lou lead the subject's wife towards her husband, who was now being guarded by a couple of uniforms, then turned and jogged over to the command truck. Taking the stairs two at a time, she joined Spike inside the truck and found Ed there as well, bending over the screen. He straightened up upon Jules's entry, and acknowledged her presence with a smile.

"How're the kids doing, Jules?"

"They're all right," she said, sitting down in the chair next to Spike and swiveling around. "No injuries. A few pairs of wet pants, though."

"Hey, I almost wet my pants when he gunned the motor," Ed kidded.

Spike gave a short laugh and finished typing a string of figures into his keyboard. "Good thing his wife showed up when she did," he said, clicking off the screen.

"Tell me about it," Jules said seriously. "She just saved his life. Another few seconds, and ka-pow." She mimicked a firing gesture with her thumb and forefinger.

"Wives," Ed said with a smile, shaking his head. "They do that to you, don't they."

"I wouldn't know," Spike grinned, gathering a few notebooks. "Later, guys." He left the truck and shut the door behind him.

Ed took Spike's vacated seat and flicked on the computer screen to read the transcription of the day's events.

Jules leaned forward interestedly when Ed scrolled down to the conversation between the subject and his wife, and read along with him. She let out a low whistle when she finished.

"Four minutes on the phone, and her husband's life is saved. That's pretty amazing," Jules said.

Ed swiveled his chair around thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't know. Sophia saves my life all the time."

Jules turned to grin at him, but his face was serious. Her smile was replaced by a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

Ed's brow lifted as he straightened up in his seat. "There's only so many times you can look down a barrel and stay sane, Jules," he said seriously. "And we're usually at both ends. Ending somebody's life – you know as well as I do how it stays with you."

Jules nodded her assent.

"Having Sophia to come home to – she keeps me sane, Jules. The injustice in the world – I fight it all day, but there comes a point where you just have to accept the world for what it is, and that's where Sophia stands waiting, every night. I'm telling you, there's nothing like it."

Jules stared unseeingly at the computer screen in front of her, mulling over Ed's heartfelt words.

"But you're a tough guy," she said, realizing the fallacy of her argument even as she presented it. "You could get through on your own, couldn't you… Don't you – don't you want to do it on your own, and not have to rely on somebody else to pull you back…?"

There was a little too much understanding in Ed's eyes as he answered Jules.

"Everybody needs somebody, Jules," he said. "It's what makes us human. Sure, we can survive on our own, Jules – but life's not meant to be survived. It's meant to be lived."

"And you need someone else in order to do that?" Jules asked, turning over the idea in her mind.

"It sure helps," Ed said. "It sure helps. Works both ways, Jules. You need somebody else, but you also need to have somebody out there who needs you. Gives you purpose, a reason to get up every day. It's a whole interconnected, interdependent world we've got here."

"Everybody needs to be needed." She was surprised at how easily the phrase came to her lips.

"That's right. Gives you something to live for."

_Gives you something to shoot for._

Jules stared ahead unblinkingly, not even noticing when Ed discreetly rose and left her to be alone with her thoughts.

_You need somebody else to need you. You need somebody, and you also need somebody to need you, and maybe it's the same somebody, so you both need each other. Because that gives your life more of a purpose, when you have someone to experience your life with, and somebody to go home to at the end of the day. So everybody needs somebody to need you, because it gives you something to live for. Something to shoot for._

She felt slightly lightheaded.

"Jules? You all right?"

She looked up, only registering Ed's absence in that he had been replaced by Sam, who looked concerned.

"You're really pale, Jules – you okay?"

Her vague nod did little to reassure him, especially as she was now staring at him as if she'd never seen him before. When she spoke, though, her voice was strong and clear.

"Hey Sam, do you – do you want to go out for a drink tonight?"

He looked a bit taken aback.

"We could go to that new pub down on the West Side – Keira says they've got chicken wings to kill for."

"Leave your gear at home, then, wouldn't want you to be tempted," Sam said amiably. "Drinks sound good to me. I'll buy."

"No, I'll –" Jules stopped short. _Everybody needs to be needed._ She looked up at Sam again. "Actually, that would be great." She smiled sincerely. "Thanks, Sam."

He looked completely bemused by her sudden reversal - a reaction for which she could not blame him - but he returned the smile and said, "I'll see you at HQ, then."

Jules watched him go, then pushed her foot against the desk to swivel her chair a full 360 degrees.

_Everybody needs to be needed. God, I've been so stupid. _

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: I hope the conversation was cathartic enough. Reviews are reassuring.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

Jules settled herself onto the proffered chair and smiled her silent thanks to Sam. She couldn't believe it, but she actually had butterflies in her stomach tonight. She honestly couldn't remember the last time a date had given her butterflies – and Sam wasn't even a real date. Jules had made it quite clear on the car ride here that this outing was, in fact, an official _non_-date. Just drinks. Drinks between friends.

"So what'll it be - beer? Shots? Perhaps something a little fancier for such a special occasion?" Sam was standing behind his chair and surveying her fondly.

"Special occasion?" Jules asked, looking uncertain.

"It's our first official non-date. I think that calls for cocktails," Sam smiled down at her.

Jules considered the idea, then shrugged agreeably. "Sure. Grab a menu, let's see what they've got."

Sam sat down a moment later with two cocktail menus, one of which he passed to Jules. Jules's eyebrows arched in surprise as she leafed through the lengthy selection. Sam whistled and tilted his chair back, studying his options.

"Irish Car Bomb," he read idly.

Jules glanced up at him, then grinned and read, "Ka-Boom."

"Kill Me Now."

"Cease-Fire."

"No way."

Jules looked up in surprise. Sam was laughing.

"That's not a drink," Jules rebuked him, and turned back to her menu, trying to hide her smile.

"Superman," she read next, drawing out the last syllable.

"Damn Right."

Jules giggled. "Ugly Buddy."

"Red Hot Lover."

"Yes!"

Sam looked completely taken aback, and Jules burst out laughing. "It's a drink, Sam. Your turn."

"Kiss Me Slow."

"In Your Dreams."

"That's not on the menu," Sam objected, scanning the printed type.

"That's funny, it's on mine," Jules said serenely, tossing her menu down on to the table. "I'll take the Ka-Boom."

Sam picked up the two menus and stood up. "I'll take the Juliet." His eyes twinkled as Jules's jaw dropped, half scandalized and half amused.

The room was crowded, and Jules lost sight of Sam as he made his way to the bar.

Taking advantage of her time alone, Jules studied the table ridge in front of her and reviewed her plan for the evening.

_Make up for being such a jerk to Sam in the past. Apologize. Start this whole thing over… as friends. Partners. Stop jumping down Sam's throat when he tries to help out. Let him be the alpha male sometimes. Kick his ass if he does it too often. Start this whole thing over. As friends. Just friends._

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: I know this chapter is short, but I've been really busy and just wanted to put up something for all you guys. Updates will be as often as humanly possible.**


	15. Chapter 15

Her plan for the evening didn't go nearly as smoothly as she'd hoped. The whole stop-being-a-jerk-to-Sam thing – yeah, that pledge suddenly became a lot more complicated when Sam returned to the table with a girl clinging onto his arm. Granted, Sam looked decidedly uncomfortable – or maybe that was just because he was trying not to spill the two drinks that he was carrying.

_The girl is quite something to look at,_ Jules admitted resentfully. _It's not like I don't attract my fair share of guys, but does Sam _have _to have that kind of babe magnetism?_

Jules gave the girl a critical once-over, taking in the light blue mini dress that offset the girl's perfectly tanned skin, and the silver stilettos that brought her height up to match Sam's.

Jules's favorite dark jeans and glittery purple tank top had looked pretty good in her bedroom mirror, but she suddenly felt very dowdy. Wishing she was wearing a bit more makeup, or at least a pair of heels, Jules directed a very forced smile towards Sam and his companion as they reached the table.

_Don't be a jerk,_ she reminded herself through gritted teeth. _Be his friend. You're just friends, anyway._

Sam set the drinks down and took his seat, but to Jules's intense displeasure, the silver-heeled brunette sat herself down at Sam's left elbow, completely mindless of the lack of invitation.

"Hi, I'm Melanie," she said cheerfully, displaying dazzlingly white teeth as she extended a hand across the table towards Jules. Jules gave her an incredulous look, but rather than be rude, took the girl's hand and shook it, jangling the half-dozen bangles that encircled her wrist. She let go very quickly.

"So Sam was just telling me about what he does," Melanie gushed, heedless of Jules's complete lack of interest. "And I've just got to say, I think that is so incredibly amazing. I mean, putting himself out there in harm's way to protect the rest of us – that's just amazing." She tilted her head and directed a mega-watt smile in Sam's direction. Jules took a sip of her drink and idly wondered if she should fish for her sunglasses.

Melanie seemed to be waiting for a response, and seeing that Jules wasn't about to give one any time soon, Sam spoke up obligingly. "Uh, yeah, it's – uh, it gets pretty tough out there sometimes. But it's cool. You have teammates who've got your back. It is a pretty awesome job." He glanced at Jules for corroboration, but she didn't seem to be paying him much attention.

_So is it the fawning that Sam enjoys, or the hero worship, or the stilettos? _Jules wondered cynically, downing half of her cocktail. _Because if that's the case, I think I'm really not his type. But hey, cupcake here seems to be enjoying herself. Wouldn't want to rain on her parade._

"So what do _you_ do?" Melanie asked brightly, turning her focus to Jules.

_Scratch that. Bring on the rain._

"I'm a sniper," Jules said shortly. Melanie's smile faltered for a moment. Jules raised her eyebrows pointedly and took another swallow of her drink.

"Oh, um – wait, are you – are you guys, like, _together_?" Melanie asked, looking back and forth between Jules and Sam with wide eyes.

_No shit, Sherlock._

"No," Jules said, draining her glass. She had drunk this way too fast, and after today's stressful events, she could tell that the alcohol was going straight to her head. She also could also tell that she currently didn't give a damn.

Sam was watching her with slightly creased eyebrows.

_This isn't how tonight was supposed to go_, Jules thought irritably. _I'm supposed to be starting over with Sam, not being a jerk. Heck, why am I being so jerky, anyway? Geez, let him have his time in the chick's spotlight. It's not like it makes a difference to me._

She inspected her glass for any residue of liquid. There was none, and she pushed it away slightly and leaned back in her chair.

_Like hell it doesn't make a difference to you, Jules._

"How about some wings?" Sam asked, cutting into Jules's wretched thoughts. She looked up at him, and he said with an encouraging smile, "You said they were good. Let's try them out."

Jules shrugged disinterestedly, but Melanie jumped at the opportunity.

"Oh, I love the wings here too! They're just so perfect, mmm! But you know, what I'd really love," she said, lowering her voice and leaning in towards Sam, "is for some really good-looking guy to buy me a drink. Especially a blonde guy… who's a cop." She looked immensely pleased with herself for having said that.

_Go ahead, Sam, make cupcake's night. _

"Actually, I've had my eye on a different hot lady tonight," Sam told Melanie apologetically. "I think my next order's for her."

_Lovely. Let's have a party at your place then, shall we, Sam? We'll invite your bevee of fawning chicks in minidresses._

Melanie looked quite affronted at Sam's reply to her come-on, and, standing up rather quickly, left the table. Sam didn't bother watching her leave.

"That was rude," Jules said bluntly. Not like she cared much, but it was out of character for Sam, which piqued her curiosity. Just a bit.

"So you're still here," Sam said, watching her. Jules shrugged, rolling her glass between her palms. "Guess so."

"So what'll it be?"

"What?"

"To drink. What'll you have? Another Ka-Boom?"

Jules considered for a moment, and then the understanding of Sam's earlier reference hit her, and she colored visibly. "I'll take a Superman," she said abruptly.

Sam looked at her for a long moment, then stood up. "I'll stick with Juliet," he said quietly, setting off towards the bar. Jules wasn't sure if she was meant to have heard at all.


	16. Chapter 16

The ride home was very quiet. Sam was lost in his thoughts. Jules was lost in thoughts of him.

She watched Sam's hands slide the steering wheel around as the car turned a corner, and wondered what she'd do without him.

_I've been holding on to this relationship just strongly as he has. _ _I just never realized it before. I've been so busy fighting my feelings for him, but at the same time grasping tightly, afraid he'll slip away from me. I've been pushing him away with one hand more and more persistently, but the reason he isn't gone is because my other hand has been gripping a fistful of his shirt… And then I'm angry that he won't leave, yet petrified that he will._

_It's not just Sam who's been chasing pavement here. It's me, too._

_Should I give up?_

_Can I give up?_

Jules reached over and flicked on the radio. The car instantly filled with the crashing notes of Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You". Smirking at the irony of it, Jules changed the station to a mellower song that was currently playing a musical interlude.

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Then, as the song's chorus resumed, her eyes snapped back open and she sat up straight.

"_Should I give up  
or should I just keep chasing pavement  
Even if it leads nowhere?_

_Or would it be a waste  
even if I found my place  
Should I leave it there?"_

"Everything all right?" Sam asked, glancing at Jules and then back at the road.

"Yeah, it's nothing, I just…"

"_Should I give up  
or should I just keep chasing pavement  
Even if it leads nowhere…"_

Jules let out a breath and gave a mental nod of acknowledgement to the existence of some form of higher power.

"Sam, let's talk."

Sam looked at Jules searchingly for a moment, then nodded and turned his eyes back to the street in front of him. "Sure."

He pulled the car up in front of Jules's house, turned off the engine, then turned in his seat to face her. The sudden proximity of Sam's face to her own intimidated Jules slightly, and, afraid she'd do something reckless that she'd later regret, she opened her door and suggested, "Let's walk."

Sam joined her, and they set off together down Jules's peaceful block.

"I think he ran this way," Jules said finally. "I don't know for sure, but it makes the most sense. He didn't have a car too close by." Her voice trembled slightly. She tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Who ran this way?" He asked it very quietly.

"The guy who broke into my apartment."

Sam took her hand without a word. They walked, and Jules talked, and Sam listened. His breath came out in a low hiss when she described the intruder's assault, and he murmured reassuringly when she spoke of her frozen fear. When she told him of her nightmare at the SRU, he silently slipped his arm around her waist.

"I want to say thanks, Sam," Jules said, stopping in place and looking up at him for the first time since she had begun her narrative, "for – for being here, and for letting me stay at your place, it – it really helped."

"Why didn't you call me?" he whispered sadly, his eyes searching hers. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

Jules resumed their stroll.

"I didn't want you to feel obligated to protect me," she said frankly. "I mean, I just broke up with you, Sam. And I didn't want to -" She sighed. "- I didn't want to seem weak to you."

"Jules," Sam said intently, and now it was his turn to stop walking. "You're the strongest woman I know." He gently brushed her hair to the side of her face. "But Jules, being strong doesn't mean you have to be alone."

He looked over Jules's shoulder at the empty street behind her, struggling for words. "Jules, I've – I've seen a lot in this lifetime, and I couldn't have – nobody could survive it all without being strong. Really strong. But, Jules… being strong doesn't mean you have to be alone, and – and I think that the greatest strength comes from having somebody, somebody that - that you're living for."

Jules gazed at him for a long moment, her face melancholic. When she spoke, her voice was rough.

"It's been hard for me to see you with other girls," she confessed. "Even though I know that what we had is over."

"Sweetheart," Sam said, "what we still have isn't over."

Feeling the warmth of her hand held securely within his, Jules thought she understood what he meant.

The lights glowing from her front porch looked different somehow when they reached the house again. Her home seemed to emanate the inviting warmth that it had so badly lacked over the past few weeks. Gazing up at her house, Jules said slowly, "Sam, I think I'll be all right tonight by myself. You can go home if you'd like."

There was a clearness in her eyes beneath the drawn lines. Sam believed her.

Jules watched him wheel his bike out from the side of the house, and then blurted, "Wait, your stuff is still here."

"I'll come by some time to get it," he said, gently bumping his bike down the curb. She watched him with a slight pang.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" It came out as a question.

Instead of answering, he leaned his bike against the car and pulled Jules into a warm hug. She stiffened with surprise, then relaxed into his embrace and leaned her head against his shoulder, soaking in the sensations of the solidness of his chest beneath her, the firmness of his arms around her, the softness of his breath in her hair.

When she released him, she did so unwillingly. He tilted her chin up until her gaze met his, and said tenderly, "We've still got something, Jules. It's not going anywhere."

Jules nodded trustingly. He smiled at her and climbed onto his bike. Jules watched him ride away until his figure was swallowed by the darkness, then turned and hurried inside.

She brushed her teeth, changed into one of the t-shirts that Sam had left lying out, shut the lights, and climbed into bed. Then, thinking again, she climbed back out of bed, opened iTunes on her laptop, and purchased the track "Chasing Pavement".

She fell asleep with a contented smile on her face.

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: Our favorite couple is nearing resolution… now if only the show's writers would get the same idea, I'd be happy. Actually, if they'd get the idea of doing full 23-episode seasons instead of 9 and 13 ones, I'd be even happier.**

**Who saw The Mentalist finale? Good grief, it nearly killed me. Jane, Jane, Jane…**


	17. Chapter 17

"Next time someone tells me that reading is good for you, I'll tell them otherwise," Jules said, looking down at the body at her feet and shuddering slightly.

"Ah, be fair. The chances of getting shot in a bookstore are probably the same as in any other location."

"What makes someone shoot up a bookstore, anyway?"

"Unhappy endings?" Sam guessed, peering around the next shelf with his gun raised. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he reported, "No young adults in the young adult section. Let's keep moving."

Jules raised her gun back to eye level and proceeded down the aisle with him, glancing at the book-filled shelves as she did so.

"I never saw the point in paying for a book that you can check out from the library for free," she said quietly as Sam carefully poked his head around the corner.

"Some people actually read books more than once," Sam whispered back. "Self-help aisle clear. Latin literature next."

"Latin literature? Don't bother – nobody will be in _that_ aisle."

"Great place for a shooter to hide, then."

"He'd have come out by now – death by bullet is preferable to death by Ancient Latin."

"To you, maybe. Do you want to split up? We'll clear the floor faster."

"Sure. I'll take the Humor aisle."

"I'll take Sex & Relationships."

Jules's eyes crinkled with amusement, and she turned and headed down the aisle to her right as Sam turned left.

They met in the center of the floor fifteen minutes later.

"Clear."

"Yep."

"I found a book I've been meaning to read, but it's twenty five bucks. Do you think they'll give me a discount?"

"Put a bullet in it. You'll get it for free."

"I'll also be missing about twenty words from each page."

"Picky, picky."

"Ready for the third floor?"

Jules groaned and shouldered her rifle, turning towards the staircase. "I spent an hour and a half on the treadmill today. My feet hurt." She pointed out a sign posted by the stairwell that read 'Shirts and Shoes Required'.

"If I take off my shirt, do I not have to do this?" she asked hopefully.

"Go right ahead, honey," Sam said with a wide smile. He got a smack on the arm for that, but he laughed anyway.

"So what was the story here?" he asked as they ascended to the next floor.

"An alternate ending to 'Romeo and Juliet', apparently. The man didn't like his daughter's boyfriend, caught them here together, and decided to make quite sure that his daughter never saw the guy again."

"That was the body we just saw?"

"No, that was an unlucky employee," Jules said, reaching the landing and raising her weapon again. "Ready for round two?"

"Yep. Splitting up again?"

"Might as well."

"See you in ten."

Jules gave a mock salute, and set out carefully down the next aisle, peering around stacks of notebooks, journals, and diaries. There was no one there, and she moved on to the next row – book lights, notepads, lap desks…

_I wonder how the perp's profile is coming along, _Jules thought idly as she made her way towards the next aisle. _Killing his daughter's boyfriend, what kind of an idiot does that? Then again, _she mused as she passed through an aisle of stuffed animals and calendars, _it's not like our subjects are usually the brightest crayons in the box…_

She reached the end of her half of the floor, tagged it as clear, and raised herself to her tiptoes to scout for Sam.

She saw him, finally, walking silently down an aisle of CDs. She had opened her mouth to call out to him when she spotted a second figure in the adjacent aisle, and her blood went cold.

"Subject located," she breathed into her headset. She wasn't even sure her teammates would hear her communication, but she couldn't risk speaking any louder. Gripping her gun with white knuckles, Jules eased herself towards the shooter, her footsteps making no sound. Calculating his projected path, she positioned herself so that he would walk directly into her sights when he stepped out of the aisle.

She stood and counted the four seconds that it would take for him to appear in front of her. Three. Two. One.

Two figures stepped out into the aisle at the exact same moment. Both were facing away from her.

The man aimed his gun squarely at Sam's back, and Jules shot him dead.


	18. Chapter 18

"Thanks, Jules."

Sam settled himself onto his sofa, careful not to jostle the heavy bandage that his right arm was encased in. Jules continued puttering around his kitchen, clearing the remnants of that night's dinner.

Her bullet had ended the life of the subject this morning, but not in time to prevent him from pulling the trigger of his weapon. Luckily, the sudden sensation of his soul and body being summarily disconnected had considerably thrown off the man's aim, and the bullet from his gun had grazed Sam's right arm, rather than become embedded in his back or skull. Sam considered his arm to be a highly more preferable location for a bullet than either of the two other options, and was incredibly grateful to Jules for her part in altering the course of the morning's events.

He was also grateful to her for the homemade grilled chicken and rice that they had just eaten for dinner. She had picked him up from the hospital as soon as she'd been finished with the internal affairs review, and decided that tonight was not a night for take-out.

"Hey, how was your review?" Sam called to Jules over the sound of popcorn popping in the microwave.

"How do you think it was?" she asked, rolling her eyes as she entered the living room. "They were trying to convince me that I should've let him shoot you, because he was aiming for your back, and your vest would've taken the bullet. Idiots."

Sam considered for a moment, and then shrugged. "They do have a point," he said fairly.

Jules gave him an incredulous look. "Well, I wasn't going to wait around and find out where that bullet was going to end up," she declared. "And higher-ups be damned – I'd do it again in a second. You'd do the same for me," she tossed over her shoulder as she headed back into the kitchen to fetch the popcorn.

Sam acknowledged the sentiment by inclining his head before realizing that she could not see him.

She was back in a moment, though. She set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table, then dragged the table over so it would be within Sam's reach. Placing a cold beer next to the popcorn, she settled herself down on the loveseat with a beer of her own.

"Um, Jules?"

Sam was having a difficult time opening his beer with one hand. Jules unfolded herself from her comfortable position, got up, and popped open the top of his beer before returning to her previous position. When Sam asked her to get the TV remote, though, she refused.

"I'm not going to baby you. There's nothing wrong with your feet," she said.

Sam stuck his lower lip out in a pout, then stood up and found the remote himself. As he passed Jules on his way back to the couch, he tickled her stomach, causing her to shriek and spit out a mouthful of beer.

"Hmm, nothing wrong with my left arm, either," he said with mock interestedness.

Jules laughed and attempted to wipe herself off as Sam sat back down on the couch and flicked the TV on to a sports channel, which was playing the very end of a basketball game.

_He leans on me, and I lean on him, _she thought, glancing over at him as he adjusted the position of his bandaged arm. She wondered briefly how different tonight would have been if Sam had been killed today – but the thought was too awful to fully wrap her mind around.

_I'd manage. I'd be tough._

Sam reached out with his left arm and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl in front of him, his eyes still on the game.

_Yeah right, Jules. Who are you trying to fool? If Sam was gone – I would completely fall apart. That's the honest truth. _

The game ended, and Sam glanced up at the clock – it was ten thirty - and stood up.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, studying his arm and then regarding Jules with interest. "It's going to be tough taking a shower by myself with this bandage on."

Jules snatched the couch pillow from behind her and threw it at Sam in lieu of a response. She was instantly contrite, however, when a look of real pain crossed Sam's face. Jules realized, to her horror, that her projectile had struck his wounded arm.

She jumped up from her seat and gasped her apologies over and over again while Sam cradled his arm to his chest and tried to breathe through the pain. He forced a smile and reassured Jules that he was all right, but his face was white and Jules was not convinced.

She stood and watched him helplessly for a minute, then turned around and dejectedly picked up her purse, saying miserably, "Maybe it's time for me to leave."

"No – don't go."

The sound of Sam's voice suddenly raised in urgency pulled Jules out of her self-loathing mire. Concerned, she turned back towards Sam.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly. "I just – I'd like you to stay, if you could – It's been a crazy day, and –" He was having difficulty expressing himself. He took a deep breath and continued, his face downcast and eyes troubled.

"You know how there's that moment, right when you've been shot, and your body explodes with pain, and you don't know where you've been hit, or how bad it is, and you're not even sure if you're still alive, or if maybe this is what dying is like…" He trailed off.

Jules nodded. She could understand only too well.

"Watching you fall," she said softly, "and not knowing if I'd shot the guy too late, if maybe he had – had – had killed you – Sam, it was the most horrible moment of my life," Jules whispered. "I'm just so – so glad that I didn't lose you today." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey – you saved my life," Sam said gently.

"I know – I just – God, what would I do without you?" She pressed her fingers to her lips in an effort to keep her tears in check, but they escaped down her cheeks nonetheless.

"I'm still here, sweetheart," Sam murmured, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. "_We're _still here."

Jules nodded silently, her face coated in tears.

In an attempt at lightening the situation, Sam said, "Now how about that shower?"

"You're on your own there," Jules said, wiping her face with her arm and collapsing back onto the couch. "You know we have rules here."

"Of course. Rules of propriety. I was just joking, Miss Platonic," Sam said, but the smile he gave didn't quite reach his eyes, and his shoulders were slightly slumped as he turned and left the room.

Jules listened to the water turn on in the bathroom and thought about how much she loved Sam.

_I could have lost him today. I could have lost him. Oh God, I could have –_

_But you DIDN'T, Jules. You didn't. He's taking a shower in the other room right now. He's still here. WE'RE still here._

The humming of the water running through the tap changed into the splattering sound of the showerhead's spraying.

"_We" are not here,_ Jules realized. _"We" are not here at all._

_How could we be? There _is_ no "we". There never will be a "we" as long as we have all these limits and rules and boundaries to what we can do or even say to each other. We're not a "we"! I'm still here, and Sam is still here – but "we" aren't._

The sound of the water had stopped for quite a few minutes when Sam came out to bid Jules good night. He looked very sad, and although Jules hugged him fiercely before returning the wishes, it somehow seemed to make him even sadder.

Jules cried herself to sleep that night on Sam's sofa bed. When morning finally broke, her eyes were swollen and puffy, but her mind was filled with a sudden clarity, the likes of which she had never known.

She knew exactly what it was that she needed to do.


	19. Chapter 19

The slam of the front door disturbed Sam's concentration, and he looked up from his keyboard to see Jules walk in, looking flushed.

"Hey Jules. How's HQ?" he asked, minimizing the screen that he had been working on.

"Same old," she said dismissively, but she looked excited as she set her purse down on the corner table. "Whatcha doing?"

"Trying to write an email to my parents, but it's not going well," Sam said ruefully, indicating his currently useless right arm. "I've been at it for thirty minutes."

"Because you're typing with your left hand or because you don't know what to say?" Jules asked, coming to sit near him. Sam sighed.

"Both, I guess. Mostly the second reason," he admitted. "The arm's a good excuse, though." He looked up at Jules. She was smiling in an understanding way, and it seemed to bolster him. He reached out and clasped her hand in his. "You're here now, though – maybe words will come more easily."

They smiled at each other for a long moment before Sam glanced at his computer screen, then back up at Jules in surprise. "Wait, why _are_ you here? It's only two o'clock. What's going on?"

Jules took a deep breath. The nervous excitement that she had exuded earlier returned, and she stood up from her perch, releasing Sam's hand as she did so.

"I have something to show you," she said apprehensively.

"Okay," Sam said, waiting expectantly.

Jules hurried over to her purse and pulled out from underneath it a dark blue folder that Sam had not noticed earlier. She brought it over to Sam and held it out for his inspection. Sam looked at the folder for a moment with raised eyebrows, then took it from her hands, glanced up at Jules's nervous face, flipped the folder open, and began to read.

Jules thought she might have forgotten how to breathe as Sam perused the first of the sheaf of papers inside the folder. She watched anxiously as the expression of curiosity on Sam's face changed into confusion, followed closely by shock.

After what seemed like an eternity to Jules, Sam looked up, shock evident on his face.

"You're transferring to Team 4?!"

She nodded, unable to speak.

He seemed to be at a complete loss, looking back and forth between Jules and the papers in his hands. "We won't be – we won't be partners anymore –" The shock slowly slid off of his face as realization dawned in its stead.

"Jules – are you doing this for _us_?"

"Yes."

"Jules, are you sure?" Sam asked, standing up from his seat and taking her hands in his. "These guys are your family, Jules, you're going to – you're going to give that up?" He looked closely at her face, which was filled with a myriad of emotions that he could not define. "Jules, you don't have to do this," he said gently.

"Sam…" Her silence until now had not been caused by doubts, as he thought – she was merely struggling to piece together the words that would express to him what it was that she was feeling. She steadied herself with another breath and started again.

"Sam, I'm not going to lie, it'll – it'll be hard," she said. She gazed up at him earnestly with a tinge of sadness in her eyes. "These guys – these guys are my brothers. But Sam, you -" Her voice faltered as her grip on his hands tightened.

"You're my everything," she whispered. "Sam, I wake up every morning looking forward to seeing your face. I can't even deal with _thinking_ about what it would be like not to have you around every day. Sam, we both know that any day, any call could be our last, and – and I don't know where it's headed, this thing between us, or how far we will go, but I do know that I don't want to miss a single moment of it. I love you, Sam." Her eyes looked rather damp. "I've put you through hell and beyond over the past couple months, but you never gave up on me – you were always there, and even when I thought I didn't need you I always did. You – you were right, Sam – everybody does need somebody. And I – I need you, Sam." She took a shuddering breath and gave him a teary smile. "You're my hero."

Sam had stood motionless throughout her soliloquy, watching her intently. Now he spoke.

"You're switching to Team Four."

"Yes."

"And you're doing this so we can be together."

"Yes."

"And you're sure."

"Yes," Jules said, her eyes filling with tears as she nodded vigorously.

Sam's eyes flickered with wonder. He released Jules's hands from his own and gently cupped her face in his palms.

"Can I kiss you now?" he whispered.

Jules swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded her head.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, you can."

***FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP*FP**

**AN: Just one chapter left. Aw… I've become quite attached to this story.**


	20. Epilogue

_Three Months Later_

The sterile green lights of the SRU did nothing to dampen the warmth and joy that permeated the briefing room. Laughter and happy voices echoed from all around the large table, which was piled with cakes and numerous open bottles of champagne.

A huge banner had been strung up along the far wall, with large blue letters proclaiming, "Congrats Sam & Jules!" Standing and sitting all around the room were the members of Teams One and Four, as well as Donna, Keira, Winnie, and assorted other SRU personnel.

The clinking of a spoon against a glass called everyone to attention, and the chatter quieted down as the guests turned towards Sam, who was standing at the head of the table holding a flute of champagne. He cleared his throat.

"Hey everyone," he began. "First of all I want to say thanks to all of you for being here tonight to celebrate with me and my beautiful bride." He reached an arm out and gently pulled a blushing Jules to his side, where she gave a small wave to those assembled. Sam smiled at her and then continued, his voice gaining strength as he went.

"Jules and I couldn't think of a better place to celebrate our engagement than right here at the SRU, our home away from home. It was here that we met – although, technically, that was at First York Plaza, when Jules pointed a gun at my head" - a roll of laughter passed through the room - "and what can I say, none of the Afghanis who ever aimed at me were quite as good looking."

Another roll of laughter ensued, which increased in volume when Jules elbowed Sam in his side. Sam gave her shoulders a tender squeeze and continued.

"When I joined the SRU, I thought that I had all the skills I would need for this job. I didn't realize just how much more there was for me to learn… but I was partnered with the best damn officer that this country has, and whenever I was lost, I could always count on Jules to tell me where to go." He got another elbowing from Jules for that, but she was laughing this time.

Sam looked over at Greg and said with mock seriousness, "Sarge, as my superior, I'd like to assure you that absolutely no fraternization occurred within this team. It wasn't until _after_ Jules transferred to Team Four that I put up the bikini pictures of her in my locker."

A burst of laughter greeted that announcement, and Greg called back with a smile, "Damn right!"

Sam waited a moment for the laughter to die down, then turned to Jules, who was still pressed against his side, and said sincerely, "Jules, I can honestly say that you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I'm still in shock that you actually said yes" – Jules lifted her left hand to proudly display the glittering ring – "and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

He lifted his glass to her and gave her a light kiss on the lips, and a smattering of applause broke out, accompanied by a cacophony of cheers and whistles.

Greg was the next to stand and raise his glass.

"Jules, Sam – I feel like I'm marrying off my kids here, though I definitely can't take credit for the success of your relationship," he said with a wry smile. "You did good, both of you. Jules – we miss you, but it's a small price to pay, and it's worth it."

"Yeah, trading us in for Sam – can't say I blame you," Ed grinned, getting to his feet and surveying the couple. "Samtastic! You're a lucky bastard, but I'm sure Jules has told you that already. Jules – good luck, darling. You guys _do _look good together." He winked at Greg as he took his seat again.

It was Wordy's turn next. "Married life, what I can tell you – there's nothing like it. Welcome to the club, guys."

Lou raised his glass. "Sam, Jules – congratulations, guys. Best of luck to the both of you… and to your kids. We're looking forward to having little Sam and Jules Juniors running around the SRU."

Spike was the last of the "brothers" to offer his congratulations. "I think the other guys have said it all," he said. "Jules, you'll always be part of the family here, especially now that you're going to be a Team One spouse. Hey, are you going to change the name on your vest to Braddock? Cuz that would be kind of confusing sometimes –"

"- Well, I want to know if you're going to have the wedding at the SRU," Ed interjected.

"Yeah, that would give new meaning to the term 'shotgun wedding'," Lou laughed.

"Forget 'shotgun' – how about a Remy 700 wedding? We've got ourselves two snipers here!" Spike retorted.

"Married snipers – wow, I hope your arguments never turn heated," Wordy joked.

They all fell silent when Jules picked up her glass. She looked slightly embarrassed at being the sudden focus of everyone's attention.

"Sorry, Ed, I don't think my Dad would go for a reception at HQ…" she began lightly. She looked at her glass for a moment, then up at her coworkers. "Actually, I'm at a bit of a loss for words right now, believe it or not. I'm just – so happy that you guys are all here today, and Sam – I don't know, I think I'm the lucky one here." Her eyes misted over slightly. "You just never gave up on me, did you."

For a moment, Jules and Sam were in a world of their own, their faces glowing with contentment at the future that was now theirs to face together.

Jules raised her glass to Sam. "Here's to chasing pavement."

**FIN**

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Check out my Flashpoint videos on YT as user "chavivi86".


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